Theres No Place Like Home  Making Amends
by theicemenace
Summary: John Sheppard goes home to make amends to his family.  Will he be accepted or will he be turned away?
1. Eddie Would Go

**A/N: **The timeline for this story is in between "Relatively Speaking" and "It's All Relative."

**Making Amends**

**Chapter 1**

**Eddie Would Go**

**Day One**

**White Sands Hotel**

**O'ahu****'s ****North Shore**

**1642 Hours**

John thanked Sam again for the ride to O'ahu and for putting him down in an out of the way area so no one would witness the transport. That is until a palm leaf slapped him in the face causing him to drop his boogie board. "Crap!" He bent down to pick it up then headed out of the dense foliage not far from the hotel.

With his arms full, he made his way into the hotel lobby and up to the front desk. More than a few people stared because he was dressed for much cooler weather. He rested the surfboard and boogie board against the front desk and the bags on the floor. Within seconds a bellman came and started loading the items onto a cart.

The young man at the desk smiled. "Aloha. May I help you?" His name tag said Sean.

"Yeah. I need a room. Nothing fancy. One bed, any size, and a small 'fridge if you've got it."

Sean was already shaking his head. "Sorry, sir. We're all booked up. Won't have anything available for at least three weeks."

John was more than a little perturbed. He whipped off his sunglasses and gave the guy a glare. Now that he finally wanted to spend time with his family, he couldn't even stay at the same hotel. "Could you check again, please? My brother and his family are here."

"What's the name, sir?"

"Sheppard. David and Blaire Sheppard."

Now Sean's face lit up. "Yes, of course, Mr. Sheppard. Your sister-in-law reserved a room for you." He waved away the credit card John produced. "Not necessary. Mrs. Sheppard's taken care of everything." He passed the plastic rectangle to the bellman still standing with the cart. "Room 1003. And there's a message for you, sir."

John pulled the slip of paper out of the envelope and read it with a sardonic smile. _Aloha, John! We're at the pool. Get your trunks on, grab a beer and join us._ He smiled as he tucked the note in his pocket and followed the bellman to the elevator.

As they passed the gift shop, John asked the young man to wait while he went inside. He came out a few minutes later with a full bag which he added to the cart.

* * *

As much as John had enjoyed his stay in Vancouver, he was glad to be where it was warm. He quickly changed into his trunks, grabbed the hat, gaudy Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops he'd purchased in the lobby and headed for the pool.

He searched the area for his family and spied Blaire on the far side rubbing sun block on her legs. Her hair was still that golden brown he remembered from their youth though over the years the little girl chubbiness had been replaced with a well-toned slimness that suited her. As he watched, a teenage girl flopped down next to her, picked up a cell phone and began texting furiously.

John made his way around the pool and when he got close, Melissa jumped up and was gone again. His eyes followed but lost her in the crowd. He came to a stop at the foot of Blaire's chair. "This isn't the Pipeline."

Blaire had been turning the pages of a magazine but stopped and brought her eyes up to meet John's just as he took off his aviators and slipped them into the pocket of his unbuttoned shirt. She vaulted off the lounge chair and threw her arms around him. After a slight hesitation, his arms settled loosely around her, patting her awkwardly on the back. He'd forgotten how demonstrative she could be.

"I knew you'd come, John. Gosh, it's good to see you!" She stepped back, gesturing to the empty chair beside her and John sat down. "You look great."

He reached out and tugged on the hem of her beach cover-up. "You, too. How's my brother treating you?"

"Like royalty, as is my due as his long-suffering spouse." She glanced over to where David was sitting at the bar drinking from a glass that could have held anything from water to Everclear and talking on a Bluetooth. He was faced mostly away from them with a state-of-the-art Blackberry on the counter in front of him and had his serious face on.

_Business call_, John thought. "Good. I…" Something moved between him and the sun casting a shadow. He looked up to see a young man standing over him with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed.

"This guy bothering you, mom?"

"Jason!" Blaire reprimanded her son. "It's your Uncle John."

John stood up and found that his nephew now equaled him in height. Jason had the same lean well-muscled torso that his uncle had but without the scattering of hair. The young man didn't relax but offered up a tentative smile. "Oh, sorry. Didn't recognize you." He stuck his hand out and pumped John's exactly three times.

"No reason you should." John resumed his seat.

"You stayin' a while?" He asked warily but still with the same smile, not yet certain he trusted the older man.

"A few days. I hear you like to surf."

"Yeah. A little."

John heard the implied "What's it to ya, stranger?" and responded in a non-threatening tone. "I've done a little surfing myself. Maybe we can do the Pipeline while I'm here."

A stifled snort caused both men to shoot an annoyed glance at Blaire who was unsuccessfully hiding a grin behind her hand. "Sorry. It's just…well, your uncle used to win surfing competitions when he was your age. In fact, that's how we met."

"Actually," John turned back to Jason with a conspiratorial lowering of his voice, "I was practicing for a contest and _she_ dropped in, bumped the tail and I wiped out."

"Yeah, but you would've wiped out anyway. You were goofy foot and needed to be regular foot for that particular wave."

John watched Jason's eyes track back and forth between his mother and uncle as they slipped back into their former easy camaraderie. Jason didn't seem to like the idea so John made a mental note not to spend too much time alone with his sister-in-law. "What I needed was a _Gidget_ who understood wave priority."

"What are you complaining about? You won that contest and even had a trick named after you." Blaire slipped her sunglasses back on and reached for her drink.

Jason's interest was captured at his mother's rejoinder. "Wait. _You_ created the Shepp Swivel?"

His uncle rolled his eyes and reluctantly nodded. "Uh, yeah."

"Saw a YouTube vid but didn't realize it was _you_." Jason looked at John with greater respect. "It would be so _sick_ if you'd show me."

"Haven't done it in a while but I'll, uh, see what I can do."

"Cool!" The boy turned to his mother. "Goin' to the beach to play volleyball."

"Stay out of trouble and be back by seven." The last few words were shouted at his retreating back. He waved over his shoulder to let her know he heard. Blaire turned back to John with a smirk. "So…"

"So…I'll just have to look up the video." John reached for his beer and took a drink. Again the sun was blocked and John looked up into the face of his younger brother.

"John." David's tone and expression were neutral so there was no way for John to know if he was welcome or not. "Didn't think you'd make it."

"Thought it was about time I got to know my family." The Air Force officer stood and extended his hand. After a moment's hesitation, it was accepted.

**Lulu's Luau**

Dinner that night was tense but not as bad as John thought it would be. He was sitting next to David, Melissa on his left with Jason to her left and Blaire on David's right. Lulu's Luau made it difficult to be in a bad mood. David and he even managed to have a near normal conversation, almost like when they were kids but without the usual sibling bickering.

During the appetizers, a group came out and played ukuleles. By the time the entrées arrived, a hula group was performing. There were women, men and even a few young kids. By the time dessert was served, John had relaxed enough to clap along with the music but not enough to get up and dance with the dark beauty who'd tried to tempt him, in more ways than one.

As John handed the server his credit card, the woman sashayed past and handed him her number on a slip of paper. The grass skirt and lei had been exchanged for a very short denim skirt and a white tank top so tight it looked painted on. He smiled politely as his thoughts traveled 2700 miles back to Vancouver and a pair of laughing blue eyes. He wadded the paper in a ball and tossed it in the trash on the way out.

* * *

They walked back to the hotel, Jason and John talking mostly about surfing and a little about the military. Melissa alternated walking with them and her parents, interjecting various comments about any topic that occurred to her very active teenage mind.

They all went to their separate rooms and just before midnight John's sweet tooth screamed for attention. The gift shop was closed so he got change from the front desk and went to the vending machine. He found a chair facing a window that looked out on the beach. It was backed up against an identical chair that was occupied. The person in the chair was turned away from him with their legs hugged to their chest. He sat down, unwrapped the candy and took a bite, savoring the sweetness. After swallowing, he said, "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

A head of hair the same color as his own held back in a ponytail peeked around and found John looking back at her. Melissa gave him a sheepish smile and shrug. "Yeah, but I needed chocolate." She held up an empty wrapper as she moved over to the sofa opposite him. At the age of 14, the girl was at least 5'5", still with the slight chubbiness of a little girl. After kicking off her plain black flip-flops she pulled her legs up to rest her feet on the edge of the cushion and wrapped both arms around them.

John nodded. "I know what you mean. That mango what-sis at the restaurant just didn't do it for me. Rather have chocolate than fruit. Which is SOP, at least for me."

"What's SOP?"

"Standard Operating Procedure."

"SOP. Hmm." She looked thoughtful as she bit her lip, glancing at him shyly. "So, um…"

"What?"

Her hands came up then flopped to the sofa cushion with a muffled thump. "I…I'm not sure what to call you. You're the only uncle I have but, well, you haven't been around so it's weird callin' _anyone_ 'uncle'. But it also seems kinda disrespectful to call you John."

He shrugged and relaxed into his high-backed chair, one ankle resting on the knee of the other leg. "You'll figure it out and whatever you decide is okay with me."

"Okay. I've always wondered, how do you figure military time?"

He waved his hand while he chewed the last bite of his candy bar. "Simple. One o'clock in the morning is oh one hundred, two o'clock is oh two hundred and so on. To figure military time after twelve hundred, uh, noon, you just add twelve so 1pm is thirteen hundred, 2pm is fourteen hundred and, well, you get the idea."

The girl nodded and returned to the previous subject. "I have a chocolate stash at home. Kit-Kats, Snickers, M&M's, Almond Joy, Mounds. I love 'em all but try not to, you know, eat too many of 'em. And I work out most mornings."

"Good idea. You run?"

Melissa nodded eagerly. "Started doing it a couple years ago." She got a look in her eyes that John saw in his own reflection sometimes. "No radio. No iPod. Just me and the road. Helps me stay focused."

"Yeah. When I need to focus or de-stress, I go for a good long run around the, uh, base where I'm stationed."

The girl curled and uncurled her toes, the nails painted cotton candy pink. "Where is it? Your base."

John's eyes became unreadable. "Sorry. Confidential."

Her feet went to the floor, she propped her elbow on one knee and rested her head in the hand. "It's a Special Forces/Black Ops kind of thing, isn't it?" She was genuinely interested.

John waggled his hand. "Sort of. Can't talk about it."

"'S cool." Unlike her father, she really _did_ understand. Playing idly with the edge of the shorts she slept in, she asked, "You like movies?"

"Yeah. My favorite's _Alien_, the first one, and the Batman and Spiderman movies."

"Cool! Me, too." Looking shyly at him, she asked, "Promise you won't laugh?"

John gave her a grin. "No."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "I like to watch and play sports and any movie that has car chases and explosions."

"Don't find that funny at all." He motioned her forward as if what he had to say was a big secret. "What about…Ferris wheels?"

"Meh. I can take 'em or leave 'em. Not afraid of heights but all they do is go around and around." She waved her hand in circles. "_Not_ the most fun you can have."

"Are you _kidding_?" He was comically shocked by her response and it made her laugh. "It's the best! Just for a few minutes, you're on top of the world. Nothing and no one else matters. The wind in your face, just you and your companion whether it's a girl, or in your case, a boy or your favorite niece."

Again Melissa rolled her eyes, obviously her preferred form of non-verbal communication. "I'm your _only_ niece."

"_That's_ why you're my favorite."

"You're weird but the good kind." She hid a yawn behind her hand, her eyes saying she hoped he hadn't noticed, but he did.

"SOP." He levered himself out of the chair. "Come on. It's bed time for both of us." They headed for the elevator and got off on the tenth floor. As Melissa was opening the door to her room, he said, "Don't forget to brush."

Melissa huffed in genial annoyance of the type teenagers reserved for the adults in their lives. "I thought you'd be one of the 'cool' uncles." A soft chuckle reached her ears.

"How about a run in the morning, just you, me and King Kamehameha? 0700?"

She nodded. "'Night, Uncle John."

John paused at his own door two down and across from his niece's just a little surprised to find he actually _liked_ the idea of being called "uncle." _I should have done this a long time ago._

**Day Two**

**White Sands Hotel**

**Room 1003**

**1100 Hours **

Dressed in his trunks, John, balanced his surfboard between two chairs and carefully stood on it after starting the video of himself "performing" the Shepp Swivel. It was the first contest he'd ever won and it was all due to the trick he "invented." The truth was, he'd goofed up and somehow it had all worked out because the judges and the crowd loved it.

He'd watched the video numerous times the previous night and again after his run with Melissa and breakfast with the family. _Think I got it now. Right hand here, left hand there, feet here and here, tilt left, pull the nose up and_…Wham! He fell off the board to land, thankfully, on the bed. After a few more tries, he gave up. "Crap! How in the _hell_ did I manage air without wiping out?"

Pushing to his feet again, he shoved his arms into another of the brightly colored shirts he'd purchased the day before, stuck his feet in the flip-flops, grabbed his wallet and slammed the door on his way out. In the lobby, he got directions to a nearby surf shop and headed out. He returned less than an hour later with all the equipment necessary for surfing: wetsuit, rash guard, traction pads, surf wax and so forth.

When he stopped at the front desk, the young man who'd checked him in the day before was on duty. "Aloha Kakahiaka, Mr. Sheppard. What can I do for you?" Sean had the dark coloring of a native of Hawaii though his eyes were lighter brown than most.

John set his bag on the floor beside him, glancing around to make sure none of his family was present. "I need somewhere I can, uh…"

Sean had seen the bag and nodded understanding. "I have just the place." He wrote directions on a pad, ripped off the page and handed it to John. "It's not far. Only a native would be able to tell you how to get there."

Folding the paper carefully, John stuck it in his pocket. "Now I need a way to get there."

Sean reached beneath the counter and produced a set of keys. "Mrs. Sheppard ordered a car for you. It's out front and to the right."

John thanked him and went to his room. He was back at the main entrance in less than 30 minutes. Looking to the right, he saw a whole fleet of cars, all makes, models, years and colors. A bellman pointed him toward a car and he almost had a heart attack. The car Blaire rented for him turned out to be a long, black, 1948 Cadillac convertible in mint condition. It had power seats, wide white wall tires, skirts and a power top. Peeking at the odometer, he exclaimed out loud, "Only 54,000 miles? That is sooo _cool_." The last word was said almost reverently. Another thing he noticed was that it had a state-of-the-art security system. It wouldn't have mattered. If anyone so much as _looked_ at it dirty while he was driving, he'd be all over them like a Wraith on an injured human. _I have resources…and Rodney'll help._

Walking all around it, he just stared. It was sleek and shiny, with a cloth interior instead of leather which would have been unbearable in the hot tropical weather. The top was already down and all he had to do was get in and go…so he did.

He stowed his gear then climbed in behind the wheel of the bench seat and buckled the seatbelt, snugging it tight across his lap. That's when he noticed the cleverly disguised CD player. Checking the glove box, he also found a CD which he slipped into the player. The aviators were slipped back on as he started the engine. Backing out, he shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking lot at a dignified speed listening to Johnny Cash's _Greatest Hits_.

* * *

John zipped up the front of his wet suit, sealed the neck, picked up his board and walked toward the water, stopping within 10 meters. He considered that he hadn't caught a wave since before Atlantis. He and Ronon had gone to an uninhabited planet to surf and camp out but the water had been aggravatingly wave free the entire time they'd been there.

Here the waves weren't high enough to practice his trick but plenty high enough for him to get his surfing legs back. Once he did that, he could move to a different spot with more people and better waves. Taking a deep breath of the tangy salt air, he exhaled, inhaled one more time then, with a loud whoop of joy, ran out into the water.

An unknown amount of time later he flopped down on the sand next to the cooler that had been in the Caddy. It was filled with bottles of water, fresh veggies and fresh fruit. He didn't know who put it there but didn't really care.

Downing most of one bottle, he thought about how much he'd missed shootin' the curls. He was tired in a way he hadn't been in a long time but at least now he wouldn't look like a gremmie or a kook when he and Jason went out together. Standing, he began his usual post-workout stretching routine hoping it would keep muscles he hadn't used in this manner in years from getting sore.

John tucked the empty bottle back in the cooler and grabbed his board for one more run. As he ran into the waves, it brought back the excitement, the _exhilaration_ of his first time on a board. It washed through him as he paddled out.

When he returned to the hotel he found that his family had gone out and weren't expected back until after dark. They returned on schedule and the five of them had dinner together in the hotel restaurant then listened to a band play on the back deck of the bar. Blaire sent Melissa to bed around 2230. As she passed his chair, she softly whispered, "SOP."

One corner of his mouth lifted as he wished her a good night with a wink that only she could see knowing that they'd be meeting in the lobby around midnight for a snack.

**Day Three**

**Sandy Beach Park**

**0630 Hours**

John got up early to go to Sandy Beach Park. He knew it wouldn't be heavily occupied at this time of day so there wouldn't be many witnesses to what was certain to be one wipeout after the other. It was almost an hour's drive from the hotel but all the better because there would be no chance that he'd be seen making a fool of himself by his nephew.

After downing a protein shake, he took the Caddy and drove down to the south end of the island. Sure enough, when he arrived there were a few diehards already there. The waves were cooking, about four to five meters, so he'd be able to attempt a duplication of his prize-winning stunt.

He stayed long enough to be certain he could perform the Shepp Swivel and not make too much of a fool of himself in front of his nephew then headed back to the hotel. Once there, he changed into his trunks, Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops and went down to the lobby. After asking at the front desk, he went out to the pool area that faced onto the beach.

David was at a table under an umbrella with his Blackberry and Bluetooth again. Blaire had mentioned the night before that she would be at the spa most of the day. He kicked off the flip-flops, shed his shirt and sunglasses and went to the side of the pool. Jason and Melissa were playing water volleyball with others from the hotel.

"Hey, kids! Mind if I join you?" His brother's children swam to the side of the pool and looked up at him.

Melissa's smile was inviting but Jason still had a small glint of mistrust in his eyes. "Why are you here?"

"Excuse me?"

"We've only seen you like three times in all our lives. I just wanna know why you're here _now._"

"Jason!" Melissa's tone was reproachful. "He's our _uncle_ and he _cares_ about us."

"Yeah? Then where's he been all this time?"

"He's _in_ the military. Where he goes is _confidential._" Melissa leapt to John's defense surprising him.

The young man scoffed. "We're his _family!_ Why can't he tell _us_?"

"It's SOP. He can't tell _anyone_."

"Look…" John interrupted the siblings' argument, pushing a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, "…I'm _sorry_ I haven't been around, but I'd like to change that. All I'm asking is for you to just…give me a chance and I'll do my best not to let you down."

Jason thought it over and didn't see any traps so he relented though he still reserved judgment. "Okay. You can be on my team."

"Hey! Why do _you_ get him?" Melissa complained.

Her brother slapped the water, splashing her in the face. "Because I'm the _oldest_, that's why." They splashed each other until John was soaked up to the knees.

"_Hey_, no fighting. How about I play a while on each team?" John started to crouch down, preparing to enter the water.

His niece and nephew exchanged a look that didn't go unnoticed by their uncle, but before he could react, they'd each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him in.

John came quickly to the surface, looking around and spotting Jason swimming toward the deepest end of the pool where the diving boards were located. As soon as he saw her, Melissa took a deep breath and ducked under, swimming away from him faster than he thought possible. Because she was closer, he chased her first. He caught up with her easily, wrapping a strong hand around her left ankle and dragging her to the surface. She pushed water and hair out of her face and put her hands on John's shoulders as if to hug him. He stiffened in anticipation of the embrace but instead, she dunked him.

This time when he surfaced, he couldn't see either of them. Treading water, he turned in a circle, finally spotting Jason climbing the ladder to the high dive. The young man walked out to the end of the springboard, bounced once then executed a perfect tuck, flipping over at least twice, coming out of it just in time to hit the water with arms extended and toes pointed, barely making a ripple on the surface.

A hand on his shoulder let him know that Melissa had returned to the scene of her "crime." They tread water side by side as her brother returned to the high dive. This time he turned his back to the water and performed a perfect back dive with a half twist in the straight position, creating a light froth as he sliced into the water. Of course, John didn't know that's what it was called. All he knew was his nephew was very, very good. Almost Greg Louganis good. "Not bad."

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. He's won some awards and might get to be in the next summer Olympics. _If_ he passes Calculus and Probability and Statistics next year."

"What is he, a junior? I didn't take them till my senior year."

Melissa scoffed. "I took them last year. They were _easy_ compared to Spanish."

"_Tus ojos son como estrellas, tus manos…como ladrillos_." John said to test her grasp of the language.

The girl responded with, "Oh? _Pues estos ojos solo miran una bolsa de mierda!_" He splashed her and they laughed together. "Do you know any more languages?"

His left shoulder twitched. "Mmm. I know a little Farsi."

"Cool. Say something."

"_Havercrafte man pore mārmāhi ast._"

Her brows came together over her nose. "What's it mean?"

John snorted. "'My hovercraft is full of eels.'"

She giggled and they stayed like that for a while, treading water and watching the people around them. He was just about to suggest they get into the volleyball game but Melissa asked him a question out of the blue.

"Why _did_ you stay away?"

John realized that it wasn't out of the blue, but he'd thought they had a kind of camaraderie. He'd been wrong - at least about how and when she'd demand answers. He looked over at her and saw she was watching him in turn waiting for an answer.

"Mom said you had a fight with grandpa and never made up. Is that true?"

"I…" John pushed a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he could never stop no matter how hard he tried. "Yes, but it was a long time ago."

"What was it about?"

He looked away from her curious, open expression. "It's a, uh, long story and I'd really rather not tell it here."

"Hmph." Melissa turned away from him, a frown of disappointment on her pretty face. "Okay, you're off the hook…for now." She turned around and swam to the side, climbed out and picked up her towel, sandals and cell phone. After having a word with her father, she went inside without a backward glance.

* * *

David looked from John to his daughter and back. His eyes darkened in irritation as he huffed and returned to his phone call. "Pardon? Yes, sorry. Where were we? Page 189 of the contract states…"

* * *

Later, John and Jason took the Caddy down to the Pipeline. They'd spoken on the twenty-minute ride though it was about nothing in particular. It seemed as if his nephew was giving him time to sort out his feelings before making stronger demands for answers.

The waves at Ehukai Beach Park were, of course, higher than at Sandy Beach. He watched the other surfers remembering the last time he'd been here a little more than a month before he'd decided to join the Air Force.

The men suited up and grabbed their boards. "How about you watch a couple times then try it yourself?"

"Sure." Jason let a smirk slide over his face thinking his absentee uncle couldn't be as good as his mom said.

Again John was struck by his resemblance to Patrick. He ignored the pang in his chest at the thought of his father and made his run at the water. After his third successful Shepp Swivel, he saw Jason paddling out just as he was laying his board deck side down beside him.

The young man performed a cutback, getting the feel of the water. It was a difficult maneuver showing John just how good a surfer Jason was. "Cowabunga!" he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, the wave turned ragged, dissolving under Jason's board and knocking him head first into the water to John's left. The Air Force officer watched anxiously waiting for him to surface. After a few seconds it was apparent that something was wrong. Jason's board washed up onto the shore by the remnants of the wave but _he_ was nowhere to be seen.

**TBC**

**A/N:** Edward (Eddie) Ryan Makua Hanai Aikau (Kahului, Hawaii, May 4, 1946 – March 17, 1978) was a well-known Hawaiian lifeguard and surfer. The words _Makua Hanai_ in Eddie Aikau's full name mean _feeding parent,_ an adoptive, nurturing, fostering parent, in the Hawaiian language. As the first lifeguard at Waimea Bay on the island of Oahu, he saved many lives and became famous for surfing the big Hawaiian surf, winning several awards including the 1977 Duke Kahanamoku Invitational Surfing Championship.

http : / en . wikipedia . org / wiki / Eddie _ Aikau (Take out the spaces.)

If the Spanish isn't correct, blame LoneRanger1. However, if the Farsi is not correct, blame Google.

_Mersi_,

Sandy


	2. Bad Heir Days

**A/N:** Once again, if the Spanish isn't correct, blame LoneRanger1. He Beta'd part of this so most of the mistakes are my own. If the Hawaiian isn't correct, blame Google.

FYI - Sandy Beach Park is at the south end of the island and Ehukai Beach Park is on the north end of the island according to Google Maps.

_Mahalo_,

Sandy

**Making Amends**

**Chapter 2**

**Bad Heir Days**

John ran toward the water and dived in. A short time later he was back on shore, his eyes searching up and down the beach but still didn't see Jason. Running to their pile of stuff, alarm started to build as he searched for his headset. His hand finally closed around it, automatically hooking it over his ear. "Sheppard to _Hammond_."

Sam's voice responded instantly. "_Carter. That you again, John?_"

"Yeah. I…"

"_Thanks for the Godiva, by the way. I…_"

He called on his sharply honed ability to be cool in an emergency to keep from panicking. "I need your help, Sam. I'm at the Bonsai Pipeline. My nephew's wiped out and hasn't come back up. Locate and transport to the Infirmary immediately."

All trace of teasing banter evaporated from her tone. "_Where?_"

The military man fought the urge to pace, one hand tapping his thigh as adrenaline coursed through him. "Approximately 30 meters north from my location and…"

"Hey, who's Sam? What's the _Hammond?_ Is that a ship?"

John spun around and there stood his nephew, still dripping water but fine. Lowering his voice, he said, "Never mind, _Hammond_."

"_Okay. Carter, out._"

"You okay, John?" When his uncle just stared at him for a long moment, Jason shrugged and reached for a towel. He was about to use it to wipe his face when John stopped him. Both of his hands gripped Jason on the arms near the shoulders. One hand moved to the back of Jason's neck and the other to his shoulder. John took a step forward then another pulling the boy close without actually embracing him. It wasn't a real hug but it was the closest he'd come to a spontaneous gesture of affection in years. And Jason, knowing little about his father's brother, let it happen. When he felt the eyes of others on them, he cleared his throat and began to withdraw.

John glanced around, saw people watching the two of them and took two steps back, clasping his hands behind his back. "You, uh, had me worried there for minute. Glad you're okay."

Jason shrugged again as if it were nothing. "Got swept down the beach a ways." Watching John pull back into himself, he thought, _He __does__ care. He just doesn't know how to show it._ "So, who's Sam and is _Hammond_ a ship? And what did you mean by 'transport'?"

"Uh…" John was still a little uneasy. He'd been so thankful Jason was alright he'd almost hugged him. "Sam is Colonel Carter and she's, well, sort of my boss. The rest is confidential."

Pulling a bottle out of the cooler, Jason threw himself down on one of the towels spread out at their feet. He popped the top, took a good, long swig, recapped it and waited while John sat next to him. Glancing around, he saw their fellow sun and surf worshipers had gone about their business leaving them alone on a wide stretch of sand. "I can keep a secret."

Resting his arms on his raised knees, John looked at his hands. "This is one secret you'd have to keep for the rest of your life. You ready to do that?" At his nephew's nod of agreement, John began his tale. "Ever see the show _Wormhole X-treme!_?" Jason nodded again as he munched on apple slices. "Well, it's true…sort of. I work for a department of the military called Stargate Command. We use a device called a Stargate to travel to and explore other planets. I'm not really sure how it works but it creates a stable wormhole between two points in space…" He used his hands to illustrate.

* * *

"…and before I returned to base, Chaya 'shared' herself with me."

Jason snickered. "Shared? Is _that_ what your generation is calling it now?"

"Don't knock it till you've tried it, kid." John wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. "Then there was the time I got stuck inside a time dilation field for six months…"

"Okay, I get it now. I _can't_ know." Jason took one last bite of apple, chewed and swallowed. "But you didn't have to make up all that sci-fi and sex stuff." He squirted a small blob of sanitizer into his palm and rubbed his hands together. "So what? Iraq? Afghanistan?"

John just shrugged. He was at once relieved and irritated that he wasn't believed. "Afghanistan." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. He got to his feet and slapped Jason on the back. "Come on, kid. Let's do this."

Jason stood as well giving his uncle a challenging stare. "If you think you can handle it…old man." He gave John a shove, grabbed his board and ran like hell for the water. John scooped up his board and followed. They caught clear turquoise waves within seconds of each other and rode them in, each trying to outdo the other.

* * *

Hours later, John and Jason returned to the hotel. Blaire and Dave met them in the lobby and the group arranged to meet for dinner at sunset.

As he stood under the hot spray of the shower John thought about how his brother had managed to avoid actually being alone with him the past few days and decided that would change tonight. They needed to talk and finally felt he was ready to say some of what was on his mind.

Being here in this place, spending time with his niece and nephew, he felt as if he was finally coming to terms with the fact that, yes, he _did_ have a dark side but so did everyone else. But in order for there to be a dark side, there also had to be a lighter side that loved his family and friends and was able to give and show affection to those he cared for. Maybe, someday soon, he might even find a way to be at ease with himself and the life he'd chosen. Until then, he'd just take it a day at a time.

After scrubbing his skin and hair free of salt water, he wrapped the towel around his waist, switched the TV to the sports channel and lay down on the bed to watch his alma mater at Arizona State.

* * *

John was jerked awake by pounding on his door. A glance at the window told him he'd slept for a couple hours at least because the sun had already begun to set. "Yeah, yeah. I'm _comin'!_ Keep yer damn _pants_ on…" He opened the door to see Dave with his cell phone out beginning to dial. His eyes scanned down, taking in the yawn and the towel wrapped around John's waist being held up with one hand.

Dave's mouth upturned in a sardonic smile. "Maybe you should take your own advice."

"The hell? Oh, crap. Dinner. I…"

"…fell asleep? Got that."

Standing back so Dave could enter, John scratched his chest and closed the door. He yanked open the top drawer of the dresser and left it open after pulling out Bermuda shorts and boxers. The bathroom door closed behind him a second later.

He splashed water on his face, dried it with the towel from around his waist then tossed the terrycloth over the shower curtain rod. Dressing quickly, he checked his hair in the mirror, brushing at it in an effort to make it behave. Now, as in the past, it paid no attention. Flipping out the light, he joined Dave in the other room.

* * *

"You were trying to keep up with Jason today, weren't you? You're _not_ a teenager anymore, John." Dave shouted through the door. He rolled his eyes when he heard John's response: the flushing of the toilet. It had once been a private joke between the bothers, used in place of language that would get them slapped on the back of the head if their dad heard it.

He pulled out a chair and sat down poking a finger at the empty candy wrappers strewn across the table's surface and snorted. Looking around the room he shook his head ruefully at the fact that, even after 15 plus years in the military, John was _still_ a slob.

Pulling back the curtain, he looked out the window. In the distance, sailboats floated by, the lights on their stern, bow and mast each blinking out a different rhythm. A memory was pulled out of its storage place in his long-term memory of a time the family had gone sailing. It had been just weeks before their mom died. They hadn't gone again until his dad semi-retired and he'd taken over the day-to-day operations of Sheppard Industries. He turned from his contemplations when he heard the bathroom door open.

* * *

"Ready?" Dave asked as John put on a tank T-shirt and Hawaiian shirt that had been thrown over the back of a chair.

"Yeah, just let me…" John got down on his hands and knees, reached under the bed and pulled out his flip-flops. "Found 'em. So, where we going for dinner?"

"A little place down the beach. Serves killer Lomi Lomi Salmon and Tuna Poke."

John's stomach gurgled and he made a face. "I was kinda wanting something vegetarian tonight."

Dave snorted at the thought of his burger-loving big brother eating nothing but vegetables. "Uh, John…before we go I, uh…" John looked up from searching for his wallet, finding it behind the bedside table, "…we haven't had much time together since dad died."

John twitched one shoulder. "My job…"

"…keeps you busy and is highly confidential. Yeah. Heard that song and it's getting old. Why've you stayed away? I thought we'd ironed out some of our differences after the funeral, came to some sort of…understanding." John started to turn away but Dave's hand on his arm kept him in place. "You've been distant most of your life. You came to the funeral, but I didn't see one ounce of regret for the time lost between you and dad."

John opened and closed his mouth once, pushing his hand through his hair. "It's…I-I'm not…I don't know if…"

Suddenly, Dave had had enough holding back. "Just tell the _truth_ for once, John. After you left, you never even _missed_ him, did you?"

"Is _that_ what you think?" John yanked his arm free and had the urge to hit his brother but refrained.

"Yeah." Dave crossed his arms waiting impatiently for his brother to respond. "So, tell me I'm wrong."

Taking a few steps away, John turned back toward Dave with a huff of frustration. "Hell, _yeah_, you're wrong! I started missing him the day _mom_ died…and never _stopped_ missing him."

"What…"

Feeling the walls he'd spent a lifetime building around his emotions begin to crack, John clenched his hands at his sides but couldn't look at his brother. "I…He-dad…when I was a kid, he used to tell me how much I looked like mom, the same hair, the same eyes…the same _smile_. After she was gone, it was like he couldn't stand to have me around anymore. Suddenly, the father who'd once spent hours playing football, building models or helping me with my homework had not one_ moment_ to spare for me yet somehow always had time for _you._"

Dave just stared at him, holding his breath. This was the first time John had opened up about _anything._ As a kid, his brother had been willing to give and receive affection at the drop of a hat. Now that he thought about it, it _was_ just after their mother died when it all began to change. The big brother who'd once adored him and was adored in turn began shying away from him, from everyone…except Inez and later, Blaire. "But I thought…"

The military man made a noise, part frustration, part pain. "I _let_ you think it. You and dad were always close, two sides of the same coin. He had nothing but praise for you yet, when he talked to me, it was to criticize or tell me what to do. So many times I tried talking to him but he just blew me off."

"Dad's _gone_, John. Get over it!"

Dave didn't have a chance to even _try_ to defend himself. John placed both hands in the middle of his chest and shoved. He stumbled against the dresser, caught himself and shoved back. John fell on the bed, both men breathing hard, their respirations fueled by adrenaline, a high level of antagonism and more than 20 years of resentment. "I'm _not_ your adoring seven-year old brother anymore, John. _Stop pushing me around!_"

* * *

"What's taking them so long?" Blaire asked no one in particular after checking the time. "All your father had to do was wake him up and get him dressed."

Melissa was leaning on a decorative column, arms and ankles crossed, chewing on her bottom lip in thought. Her mother cast a look at her and almost laughed at how much she resembled John when she did that.

Jason was texting but his attention was snared as a uniformed security guard hurried to the front desk and had a quick whispered conversation with the agent. He drew his mother's gaze in the same direction when he heard the agent say "1003" just before the guard ran to the elevator. "Mom…"

"That's John's room. Come on." Blaire, Jason and Melissa jumped into the next elevator car and pressed the button for the tenth floor. "I hope they're not doing what I think they're doing."

"You really think they're…"

"Uh-huh."

"_Oh_, boy." Jason sighed heavily.

"No _kiddin'_." Melissa sighed, too. "Dad's gonna get his _butt_ handed to him."

All three faces were grave as they waited impatiently for the elevator to reach its destination.

* * *

With a growl, John launched himself off the bed to tackle Dave. They fell against the wall, Dave's fists coming down on his brother's shoulders. John barely felt it as they wrestled.

The men stumbled back and forth growling and making other inarticulate sounds. Dave worked an arm loose, cocked his fist and hit John in the mouth just as they fell and knocked the table on its side. Neither one heard the atonal _sproing!_ of the guitar falling. John grunted and let him go. He ignored the pain and hit back, catching Dave on the cheek with a fist, snapping his head to the side.

John touched his swollen lip as he started to turn away certain Dave wouldn't retaliate…but he was wrong. A sound made him turn back just in time to be socked with a sloppy punch that caught him just under his left eye.

"Ow! Sonofa…" Dave shook his hand, pain shooting up his arm.

John winced twice. Once when he was hit and again when heard the unmistakable sound of at least three of his brother's knuckles popping. _Good thing he's left-handed_, he thought just before Dave swung the other arm. It was just as sloppy as the first. By instinct, John deflected the attack, spun around and got Dave in a rear choke hold. Pulling him backward off balance, he steadily applied pressure in an effort to cut off the flow of oxygenated blood to Dave's brain.

But now John's vision had changed. It was as if someone had put a different lens on the world around him, and at that exact moment, the man he was choking to death wasn't his younger brother. He was the embodiment of everything John had been holding in for, well, it seemed like forever.

Dave tried to pull John's arm from around his throat as his vision started to darken and his lungs screamed for oxygen. In a strangled voice, he said, "Johnny, please…"

Suddenly realizing what he was doing and _who_ he was doing it to, John let up and Dave greedily sucked in air. Teeth clenched, John said, "You want the _truth_ about why I left and only came back a few times? Well, here it is!

"When the letter came telling me I'd gotten a full ride to Stanford, I was so excited,the first person I wanted to share the good news with after you and Inez was _dad_. I went down to his office thinking that _finally_ he'd be proud, that he'd see _me_…"

Dave stopped struggling as he too remembered that day. He'd been just as excited as John when he heard the news. John had wanted to tell dad in person and hadn't bothered taking his car, just took off out the front door running.

"…but he wasn't and he didn't. He blew his top. Said no son of _his_ was going anywhere but Harvard. We argued and I told him I wanted my own life, not the one _he'd_ planned for me, but he wouldn't listen. I told him I was going to Stanford no matter what and he said…"

John's grip relaxed even more as memories were churned up like seaweed in an outboard motor but Dave didn't try to get out of his brother's arms. He remembered how John had returned an hour later more angry than Dave had ever seen him. He'd gone to his room, packed his clothes and moved into one of the unused apartments over the garage where the housekeeping staff used to live. A few weeks later he'd gone off to college and they'd hardly seen each other or spoken since except to argue.

And here, in this hotel by the beach, a long way from where it had all started, Dave watched his preconceived notions of what had happened between his father and brother fall apart, turned inside out like an umbrella in a hurricane. "What? What did he say?" John stayed silent so long, Dave was afraid his brother had reached the limits of his emotional endurance. "John, tell me. Please."

John realized suddenly that this night could end any of a hundred ways, most of them bad. To prevent that, he took a series of deep breaths and abruptly let Dave go, pushing him as far away as he could. His nerves were stretched almost to the breaking point, tears prickling in the back of his eyes. He turned away so his brother wouldn't see the pain and hurt that he'd buried for decades come kicking and screaming back to the forefront. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and Dave had to listen closely to hear. "He said 'then I guess you're no longer my son.'" The words were as heartbreaking to hear himself say now as it had been when his father had said them.

Stretching out a hand to touch John on the arm, Dave pulled back when he jerked away. "Oh, God. John, I-I'm…sorry. All this time I thought…" He reached out again and cautiously put his hand on John's shoulder squeezing gently. When John tried to pull away again, Dave held on forcing him to accept his brother's touch, his affection. "When we heard through a friend in the government that you'd shipped out to Afghanistan, dad told me he'd done a terrible thing but wouldn't tell me what it was. He worried about you _every day_. Said he hoped one day you could find a way to forgive him before it was too late."

John turned around and the brothers faced each other across the small room. Dave took a step, another then stopped, forcing John to make the next move. His patience was rewarded when John slowly raised his arms until, as with Jason at the beach, he gripped him just below the shoulders. Taking a half step closer, a hand landed on the back of Dave's neck, the other on his shoulder and their foreheads were pressed together and John's eyes squeezed shut. Again, it wasn't a real hug but it was more than he'd gotten from his brother since they were kids.

Dave eased away from the almost-embrace waiting to see what would happen next. John broke the new-old tension by stepping back and rubbing a hand nervously through his hair. They both looked around at the overturned chairs and table and broken lamp. Even the covers from the bed were pulled onto the floor. How they'd done it they neither knew nor cared. John searched for and located his guitar on the far side of the bed. One of the strings had been broken. He put the instrument on the bed, plucking the other five strings one after the other. Another string broke and they started to laugh.

"Oh, man. You're gonna have one _heck_ of a shiner." Dave pointed to his own eye in illustration.

"I'm not the only one." John went into the bathroom, his voice echoing, "Sorry about, uh, you know, before."

"Yeah. I know."

John had just finished filling two hand towels with ice from the bucket in the bathroom and handing one to Dave when there was pounding on the door and a deep voice shouted, "Security! Open up!"

* * *

Blaire and the kids hung back while the guard approached John's room. The man beat on the door and a moment later it was opened by John who was holding a towel to his left eye.

"Yeah?"

"Is there a problem, Mr. Sheppard?" The man, of Hawaiian descent, in his early-forties, and wearing a lightweight dark uniform looked from one man to the other taking in John's split lip and the bruise on Dave's cheek.

"No, no problem. Why?" John tried to look innocent but the guard wasn't buying it.

"One of your neighbors said they heard loud voices and fighting."

Grinning sheepishly, John told him, "Sorry. Haven't seen my little brother in a while and we kinda got carried away."

"O-kay. Just keep it to a dull roar from now on, Mr. Sheppard."

The military man saw something familiar in the way the guard handled himself and straightened his own posture. "Colonel."

The man had started to turn away but faced John again. "How's that?"

"My _rank_." John pointed and Dave tossed him his wallet. Extracting a hard rectangle of plastic, he passed it to the man. "Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force."

"Sorry, Colonel." The older man drew his shoulders back. "First Sergeant Warren Smith USMC, retired."

"At ease, Sergeant." The Air Force officer made an awkward grin as Dave came to stand next to him with the same grin. They didn't know it but they looked more alike than ever at that moment. "Sorry about the noise. We'll keep it down from now on."

"Thank you, sir. Good-night."

Blaire watched the guard walk away then turned wide-eyed stares on Dave and John. "What the HELL happened? Have you two been _fighting__?_" She looked past them into the room gasping at the mess.

John said, "Maybe" at the same time Dave said, "Just a little." The brothers exchanged an eye roll, shrugged and faced Blaire again with identical shit-eating grins.

Dave tapped John's wallet still held in one hand. "Better put that in your pocket before you lose it again, big brother. Or as they say in Hawaii, kua'ana."

"Oh, yeah." The folded piece of leather was shoved into his back pocket, he tossed the towel with the ice in the bathroom sink and pulled the door shut.

As they made their way back to the elevator, the rest of the family was trailing silently behind the brothers, too shocked to speak.

John touched the bruise on his face and said, "You know, you've got a _lousy_ right hook. I could show you the right way to do it so you don't hurt yourself next time."

Dave flexed his hand wincing in pain. "No, thanks. Going forward, I'll just stick to giving noogies.'"

The elevator opened and the men stepped inside followed by the rest of the family. As the doors closed, John asked, "Instead of that funky fish place, how about we get burgers? On me."

* * *

After dinner, they took a long walk around the area window shopping. As they passed a women's boutique, John stopped to look at the window display. The mannequin on the left bore a passing resemblance to a certain Canadian female in that it's hair was also blonde. The dress it was wearing was off white with splashes of color in the shapes of Hibiscus, Bird of Paradise, and yellow Plumerias across the hem and up the left side as far as the bottom of the hip. Skinny straps were all that supported it leaving the shoulders, arms and upper chest and back exposed. There was a thigh-high slit on the left side. John had been standing there staring for who knew how long when Blaire sidled up to him.

"Not your color."

"Huh?"

"If you're thinking of becoming a cross-dresser…" she pointed, "…you'd look better in that all-black, off-the-shoulder one. It'll show off your arms better."

He didn't respond, asking instead, "How do you think it would look on a blue-eyed blonde?"

"Oh-ho. So, it's going to be a gift for, uh, what did you say her name was?"

When John turned to look at her, she had a smirk that looked like it was there to stay. "I _didn't_ say, and it's Jeannie, Jeannie Miller." He looked Blaire up and down. "What are you? Size six?"

His sister-in-law shook a finger at him. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, you know. Yes, six. And it would be stunning on your friend."

"Yeah, I know. I, uh, need something for her daughter, too. Eight, looks like her mom, kind of a girly tomboy about so tall. And chocolate for my boss. The good kind."

Taking his arm, she pulled him along with her. "We'll go shopping tomorrow. Let's catch up with Dave and the kids. That band's playing again and I just might be able to get my husband to dance with me tonight." They walked in silence for a while enjoying the renewal of their former friendship. "Do you regret that we never…"

John didn't even have to think it over. "No. You?"

She shook her head. They walked a few more steps. "Uh, John, you understand why I had to side with David whenever the two of you had a fight, right?"

John shrugged. "It's all good, Blaire Bear."

Blaire snorted at his use of the old nickname, gave his arm one last squeeze and let go. His hands went back in his pockets as she cast him a sidelong glance, a smile of satisfaction curling her lips. "You know, I think you're right. It _is _all good."

* * *

Dave was a few feet ahead of the others going into the hotel lobby. He'd already wished the kids good night and went to get a table while Blaire made a call and John brought up the rear.

Jason was ribbing John about falling asleep following their afternoon at the beach when he noticed his uncle was no longer listening, at least not to him. His expression and posture had changed. Jason didn't know John well, but got the feeling it wasn't a _good_ change.

Blaire noticed too and quickly ended her call. Melissa stood on tip-toe trying to see over the shoulders of the taller men. "What's going on?" she whispered.

"Quiet!" John said in his "I'm in charge" voice. Never having heard that particular tone from him before, they obeyed automatically.

Cocking his head to one side, John used his exceptional hearing to eavesdrop on Dave and the three men who were standing in the doorway to the bar. His Spidey-sense tingled when he recognized them as Persian by their accents as well as their dress and the snatches of Farsi coming from the two standing behind the one doing most of the talking.

Dave's face had taken on that emotionless expression he'd seen earlier and in his eyes John could see that he, too, was not happy with the tone and direction of the conversation. Motioning slightly with his head, their little group moved around the corner out of sight.

"We've got a situation. I need all of you to do _what_ I tell you _when_ I tell you or this op could go sideways."

Blaire and Jason said, "But, John…" at the same time Melissa said, "Yes, sir."

John lifted one corner of his mouth in a quick smile as he flicked his eyes at his niece. To Blaire, he said, "Find Sergeant Smith. Repeat this_ exactly_: CQB. OODA. Beer Garden."

"But…" his sister-in-law started to object but he turned away assuming she'd obey his order. She huffed, threw her hands up in the air and went in search of the security guard hoping this wasn't another of John's pranks.

"Jase, I need you to _stay_ with your sister. Do _not_ leave her side and no matter what you hear me say or do in the next few minutes, _do as she says _and_ do it immediately!_" Jason opened his mouth but closed it again when John went to the glass door with the fire hose behind it. "When Mel gives the word, grab that, turn this, aim, fire!" He pulled a fire extinguisher off the wall and pushed it into Melissa's hands. "_Ustedes tres van a ser mi refuerzo. Quando doy la senal, entren a toda fuerza. Entendido?_"

The young girl watched his face with wide-eyed anxiety. "_Si, si. Espera! Que es la senal?_"

John winked and grinned. "_Lo sabras__!_"

Melissa grinned back and nodded once. "_¡__Tenga Suerte__!_"

He turned away from them and his brother's children watched their uncle's facial expression and bearing undergo another complete change. The day's growth of beard helped with the transformation. A server was passing with several drinks on her tray. He grabbed one, knocked it back then grabbed another, purposely splashing a little on the front of his shirt. One hand went into his pocket, his shoulders and spine curved, his feet shuffling across the floor as he ambled drunkenly in his brother's direction.

In the space of just a few minutes, John had gone from Uncle John, surfer dude, to Colonel John Sheppard, career soldier, who _then_ morphed into Johnny, drunken beach bum, rendering his niece and nephew speechless once more. The minimal respect they'd already had for him climbed a few notches. If this came off the way they thought, they'd have bragging rights for months to come, maybe _years_.

* * *

John approached Dave and his unwelcome companions just as one of the Persian's slid his right hand inside his jacket. He didn't know for certain the man had a weapon but he wasn't going to take chances with Dave's or his family's lives _or_ the lives of innocent people. Clenching the hand in his pocket, John thought, _Show time!_

**TBC**

**A/N:** The military acronyms were obtained at:

http : / en . wikipedia . org / wiki / List_of_U.S._government_and_military_acronyms (Take out the spaces.)


	3. Untidy Undertakings

**A/N:** Many thanks to Shadow-of-Realm for his suggestions for this and the last chapter. Not sure if LoneRanger1 had any input this time aside from the Spanish.

_Gracias_,

Sandy

**Making Amends**

**Chapter 3**

**Untidy Undertakings**

As Dave approached the bar, a voice called to him. "Excuse me. You are David Sheppard, son of the late Patrick Sheppard and CEO of Sheppard Industries?" He turned to face three men, one slightly in front of the others, his eyebrows drawn together in mild annoyance. The men were olive-skinned with dark eyes.

"Yes. And you are…?"

"A business acquaintance of your father's. I…" he gestured to himself and the two who had not spoken, "…_we_ would like to have a few words with you, if we may."

Dave kept his features purposely neutral as he pulled out one of his business cards tucked into his wallet. "Here's my number. Please call my assistant and make an appointment." It wasn't taken and when he made to move past them, one of the silent men reached a hand out to stop him. He looked pointedly at the hand and it was withdrawn. "I'm on vacation. Now if you don't mind…" Again Dave tried to move past the men and again he was stopped.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sheppard, but it cannot wait."

With a quick glance back toward his family, Dave saw them slipping around the end of the front desk. He gave just a moment's thought to the oddness of it because that hallway led to the pool area not the elevators. "Okay, but please make it quick. I'm expecting someone."

"My name is…" The man, not much older than Dave, made a small smile of remembrance. "Your father had difficulty pronouncing my given name so he called me Adam. I invite you to do the same. He and I worked together on a project drilling for natural gas outside of Cha Malek."

"That project's being handled by the Chief Operations Officer, who reports directly to the CEO. His name is Frank Marciano." David took out a pen and wrote Frank's number on the back of his card but it was refused as well.

"You don't understand, Mr. Sheppard. Your company is directly responsible for the deaths of hundreds, including my brother and his family. I'm here to get revenge."

* * *

As he made his way to his brother's side, John looked around and saw more men who appeared to be out of place. One man was trying to look inconspicuous by pretending to read a magazine but he wasn't turning the pages. Another walked back and forth talking on a cell phone but his eyes were on the men talking with Dave.

John kept his features and posture relaxed. The hand in his pocket dug into his thigh when he heard the word "revenge." He took another very small drink from the glass barely tasting the alcohol, purposely rattling the ice to draw attention to himself. It worked and the man called Adam shot him an annoyed glance.

"There ya are, ol' buddy." John said as he reached the group. He fell against his brother, one hand gripping his arm to keep from falling.

"John, what're you…"

"Say, Davey, pal, why don'cha introduce me to yer frien's?" He slopped some of the contents of the glass on his hand as he switched it to the left one. After licking the alcohol off his fingers and wiping his hand on his shirt, he offered to shake but Adam just stared at him as if he were mad. "Johnny. Johnny Cash. You can call me Johnny or John, whatever. Just don't call me late for happy hour." He winked and swayed.

The men took in John's attire, the bruise on his eye and his obvious state of inebriation and grinned to each other, no doubt thinking exactly what John wanted them to think, that he was no threat. To further encourage the feeling, John took a step toward one of the other men, purposely stumbling, practically falling in the man's arms and dropping his drink in the process. What he was actually doing was checking for a weapon. That he was proven correct in his assumption was both a good and bad thing. If one had a weapon it stood to reason that the others did as well. And, if he followed that line of thinking, he'd say they all had diplomatic immunity or they wouldn't confront his brother in public. "Oops. Sorry. Let me buy you guys a drink."

John could see that the man who called himself Adam was getting angry. _Good. Angry people do stupid things._ All he had to do was amp it up a little. He was about to do just that when the men from the lobby joined them.

Adam nodded to the men. They took him by the arms and started dragging him away. "Hey, where we goin'?"

"Not we but _you_, Mr. Cash. These men will show you the way out." Adam turned away dismissing him as no longer important.

_Time to bring in the troops!_ "Ya know, we haven't been introduced. How 'bout I call you Number One and Number Three?" Both men snorted and ignored him. As they passed the hallway that led to the pool, John dug his heels in bringing him and his companions to a stop. "Don't know where yer takin' me but I just wanna say one thing…"

Number One, holding tight to John's right arm, sighed in annoyance. "What is it?"

"_Mi aerodeslizador está __lleno __de anguilas.__"_

"And what does this mean?" asked Number Three on his left.

"It's Spanish for 'you are _sooo_ screwed.'"

Both men looked around for the source of the other voice just as John's lax muscles strengthened and all trace of his alleged inebriation disappeared. He drew himself up straight, pulled away from his Persian companions and gripped Number Three's shoulders, bringing the man's head down as his knee came up, getting him in the face. Number Three grunted in surprise, wrapped both hands around John's knee and tugged upward.

John was ready for him and socked the man on the side of the neck. Number Three released the leg and fell back onto the sofa pursued by the Air Force officer. John took the lapels of the man's lightweight jacket in both hands, yanked him upright and swung him around in a circle to disorient him then hit him in the face.

The swing was blocked with one hand while the other came around to hit John in the ribs. He winced slightly but didn't give the man the satisfaction of letting him know it hurt. He grabbed the man's wrist twisting that arm behind his back, the other hand pressed between his shoulder blades to keep him from retaliating. He leaned down to whisper in the man's ear, "_Bâ man miraqsid?_"

Number Three stopped struggling at the odd question. "_Bebakhshid?_"

"I _said_, 'would you like to _dance_?' _I'll_ lead." John reached for Number Three's other arm but the man reached between his legs and grabbed one of John's flipping him onto his back. John fell on top of the coffee table breaking the glass top. A sharp edge ripped a hole in the seat of his pants as he pushed out of the mess to chase the man who was now running away from him. He chased him around the lobby until he managed to lose sight of him when a group of people came in the front entrance. One of them was carrying a bag and had a pair of swim fins in one hand. "Could I borrow those? Thanks." He hadn't waited for the man to agree, just took them, one in each hand, as he searched for his quarry.

Jumping out from behind a huge potted palm, Number Three got John in a bear hug, restricting the use of his arms with a growl. The man was stronger than he looked but John had gone up against Wraith, the Asurans and the Genii and wasn't about to give up. He dug in his heels pushing the two of them back until Number Three smashed into a wall. The impact loosened his hold and John raised his arms to the side to loosen it more. Pulling out of the man's arms, John spun around, slapping the man over and over with the swim fins.

Number Three covered his head with his arms to protect himself from the strange attack, grunting in frustration. He fell against a table knocking the lamp over. His hand snatched it before it could fall and he used it to go on the offensive. Holding the base, he swung it at John who jumped back with each swing. Chancing a glance over his shoulder, he realized they were headed back toward Melissa and Jason. He hadn't been able to spare much thought for them the past few minutes and still didn't as Number Three had taken advantage of his inattention to attempt to smash the lamp over his head.

John used the swim fins as makeshift Bantos Rods to parry each swing thinking that this fight had gone on far too long already. He threw his weapons at the man and snatched up a lamp of his own and, with a swing worthy of a Major League baseball player, knocked the lamp from his opponent's hands. The shade sailed into the air to land in another potted palm and the lamp itself broke. Tossing the pieces aside, he chased Number Three who'd obviously decided he'd had enough of this very odd fight and had turned to run. He didn't get far though. John picked up a tchotchke and threw it as hard as he could. It hit Number Three on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious at last.

Standing over the man lying face down in the dirt of a potted plant that had somehow been uprooted during their fight, John kicked him in the ribs to make sure he was out. He squatted down to search him and removed his weapon. Shoving the Glock into the waistband of his pants and pulling his shirt down to cover it, he went in search of his niece and nephew just as he heard a crash, breaking glass and a grunt of pain. Moments later, Jason and Melissa came running down the hall and through the pile of fire suppressant foam soaking into the carpet to join him.

* * *

At the same time John had engaged with Number Three, Number One was tapped on the shoulder. When he turned, Melissa used the fire extinguisher to squirt him in the face. He screamed, scraped the foam out of his eye and chased after her. She ran around the end of the front desk and down the hall that led to the pool calling for her brother. "Jason!" She ran past to get behind him, one hand on the knob on the outside of the fire hose housing.

"Now!" Jason, hiding beside the ice machine, jumped out, aimed the hose at the corner and fired just as Number One came into sight. The Persian was unable to stop in time and was hosed in the chest, the force of the foam pushing him back around the corner and into the lobby. Jason followed and when the man fell on his back, continued to hose him until he was completely obscured. Over his shoulder, he said. "Off!" The stream of foam slowed then came to a stop as Jason tossed the hose aside.

The kids started to walk around him but he hadn't been knocked out, just startled into a few moments of inaction. Reaching into his waistband, he pulled out a Glock, aiming it at the kids. "Run!" Jason shouted as both turned and pelted down the hall adjacent to the ice machine, the foam covered man not far behind. They ducked into the vending area but were trapped with no way out.

"Here!" Jason pointed. There was just enough room for them to slip between the wall and the snack machine and get behind it. They held their breath as the man came to a stop in the doorway of their hiding place. He came in but didn't see an exit and turned to go.

Jason peeked out the left while Melissa peeked out the right. She tapped her brother on the shoulder then held up her hand. One finger, two fingers, three fingers. Together they pushed the machine over onto Number One with a loud crash and the tinkling of breaking glass. Candy, chips and pastries cascaded over him with muffled thumps. The man called out in pain then again when Jason stepped on the back of the broken machine to get out of his hiding place. He turned back at the doorway to see Melissa on her knees next to the now unconscious man. "Leave him alone and come _on!_"

"Just wanted to make sure he was out."

Melissa followed her brother down the hall and back to the lobby, her hand pressed to her stomach. The foam was beginning to dissipate, the carpet under it squishing disgustingly as they joined their uncle. Jason shook his head at the mess then commented with sarcasm, "Look at what happened to _poor_ Number Three."

John scoffed. "They all look like number _two_ to me." The trio turned when they heard urgent voices to see the front desk agent on the phone and guests standing around staring. John retrieved the swim fins, wiped as much as the foam off as he could then handed them to the man he'd taken them from. He shrugged and gave him a "what can I say" grin. "He owed me money."

* * *

When Adam saw that John was not as he appeared he signaled to the men with him and they stepped forward to flank Dave and take him through the bar. He tried to resist but felt the muzzle of a gun pressed into his ribs. "That is not wise, Mr. Sheppard. You would not want your family to perish as mine has." As they passed through the bar, the band was playing a cover of Israel Kamakawiwo Ole's _Somewhere Over The Rainbow_ and doing a so-so job of it.

"Do you know…"

"We know everything about you that we need to know." Adam told him with a sneer. "And soon _you_ will know the taste of revenge."

They exited out the open air deck facing the beach and took the stone path that curved around to the left. To foster a tropical paradise atmosphere, the path curved back and forth and was dimly lit in many places. As the four men passed through a hairpin S-curve in the path a darker shadow separated itself from the rest and one of the gunmen disappeared with hardly a sound.

Moments later, the man was missed making Adam and his remaining gunman just a little nervous. "What happened to my man?"

"You're asking _me?_" Dave said with a smirk. It had to be the retired Marine because they'd left John with Jason and Melissa in the lobby. From the little he'd witnessed, he was immensely glad that John was in the military and vowed in the future to speak about his brother and his job with respect instead of the contempt of the past.

There was a sudden rustling in the foliage almost but not quite like a random breeze that seemed to move from one side of the path to the other causing Adam and his man to become very jumpy. Pushing Dave faster, they made it to the edge of the pool area before whoever it was grabbed the last man and dragged him into the darkness leaving Adam and Dave alone.

Now almost panicked, Adam kept one hand on Dave's arm as he pulled a weapon from the back waistband of his pants. Throwing caution to the wind, he waved the gun around. The people in the pool area ran screaming in all directions though one lady stood her ground, seemingly unimpressed by the gun in his hand.

"What the _hell_ is going on? How _dare_ you frighten my guests!" She exclaimed. If you looked at her quickly, you might think she was no more than 45 years old but upon closer examination one would be able to tell that she'd had extensive work done eyes to thighs and beyond. Her two-piece bathing suit with matching skirt, expensively styled hair and diamond and platinum jewelry screamed "I have _lots_ of money and I'm not afraid to use it." In one arm she held a small and very annoying orange sable Pomeranian that barked incessantly.

Adam growled low in his throat and pushed the woman into the pool's deep end. She screamed and flailed around hurling one insult after another at the world in general and Adam in particular. The dog swam around and around still barking.

Dave took advantage of the distraction and started to run. He came to an immediate halt when a bullet pinged off the textured cement and imbedded itself in the hotel's wall to his left.

"Stay where you are, Mr. Sheppard. Our business is not yet concluded."

"You've told me that your brother and his family were killed." Dave turned to face him again. He tried to keep him talking theorizing that if he was talking, he wouldn't be shooting…hopefully. "How? What happened? I was told there was an accident but that the damage was minor with very few injuries and no deaths."

"Do you expect me to believe…" Adam laughed mockingly, "…you don't know what is going on in your own company?"

"I have employees and officers that I trust to keep me apprised."

"Then you are trusting the wrong people." His aim didn't waver. "Sheppard Industries entered into a contract with the local government to mine a large deposit of natural gas but corners were cut in the design and construction of the drilling plant. Thirteen months after it came online, there was an explosion that killed all the workers on duty at the time. My brother was giving his wife and their three children a tour of the facility. They all perished."

Dave gasped in horror. "I-I didn't know."

"The story was suppressed by the government, mine _and_ yours. This Frank Marciano has been I believe you would call him a _major player _in this cover-up. But you are the head of the company for which he works so it is _you_ that I blame."

"I am _very_ sorry for the loss of the people _and_ your personal loss. There is nothing I can do to ease the pain but I promise you, everything that can be done to help the residents _will_ be done. And I also promise that Mr. Marciano will be dealt with."

Adam waved the Glock. "Your attempts come too late, at least for you." Now he raised the weapon out in front of him and Dave couldn't stop from taking one more step back.

"Get away from my father!"

* * *

John was about to intervene when he and everyone else turned at the shout to see his niece on the other side of the pool holding a weapon. It had obviously been taken from one of the Persians. She was holding it in both hands and had it pointed at Adam. He'd never seen her angry and scared at the same time.

"_What_ is she _doing_?" Jason asked. John could hear the fear in his voice for his sister and father.

"Crap!" John looked around until he located a way to get to Melissa without being seen. "Stay here!"

"But…"

"_Stay!_" The young man closed his mouth, gulped and nodded, his eyes wide.

As John pushed his way through the foliage surrounding the far side of the pool area, he heard sirens blaring in the distance. _Damn! This has to end __now__!_

All those missions to uninhabited planets gave him the skills he needed to reach his niece in just a few moments. He stepped quietly onto the cement verge of the pool and carefully approached the teenage girl. "Melissa." He called out in a calm, unthreatening voice. She glanced quickly over at him then back to the two men.

"Go away, John."

"Can't. Also can't let you do what you're thinking of doing."

"He's trying to kill my _father_." Her voice was filled with rage. "And I _won't_ let him."

Now he was standing next to her talking softly. "And he's _my_ brother. I know that hasn't meant much for a long time but I'm trying to change that. If you do this, you will go to jail and all your dad's money and influence _won't_ be able to stop it. Why ruin your life over him?" He jerked his head in Adam's direction.

John kept his eyes on her face and saw surrender before she handed him the weapon, butt first. In his peripheral vision he saw Adam relax slightly in triumph and it irked him. Hugging his niece to his chest for a moment, he sighed in relief. Putting her away from him, his face changed, became hard and unyielding. "On the other hand…" the unmistakable sound of a round being chambered was loud in the near-silence, "…_shooting_ people is what I get _paid_ to do." He turned and brought the Glock up as he faced Adam again. Over his shoulder, he said, "Inside. Now!"

"No!"

He wasn't in a position to argue so he didn't, just made a huff of exasperation. Taking a few slow, measured steps forward, he addressed Adam. "Looks like we got a standoff."

"Yes. How do you propose we solve this, Mr. Cash?"

"Sheppard."

"Excuse me?"

"My _name_ is John _Sheppard_. I'm a Colonel in the United States Air Force and that's my _brother_ you're about to shoot. I will _not _let that happen."

"Neither will we." They all turned in the direction of the amplified voice to find approximately 20 armed police officers pointing weapons at them.

John immediately loosened his grip on the Glock allowing it to swing from his trigger finger, moving his arms up and away from his body. He kept his eyes on Adam as they waited for him to do likewise. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly crouched down to place the weapon on the ground and kicked it away.

A pair of uniformed officers took John's weapon. "There's another in my waistband. I took it from someone who was trying to shoot me."

"That so?" The first cop, Kelly, gave him a skeptical glance as he removed the second weapon. "Then how'd you get _two_ of 'em?"

John wasn't about to tell them he'd taken it from his 14-year old niece. "I meant two. There were _two_ guys trying to shoot me." The second cop, Raeford, handcuffed him.

"Arrest him! He's dangerous!" A strident voice called from the edge of the pool. Everyone turned to see a soaking wet woman climbing out the shallow end of the pool carrying what looked like a drowned rat. She pointed at John. "He said he gets _paid_ to shoot people! Take him away!"

"Sir? _Did _you say that?" Officer Raeford asked.

"Uh, yeah, kinda. ID's in my wallet. Back pocket." After the cuffs were on, Raeford pulled the wallet out and handed it to Kelly who carried it to one of the squad cars they hadn't heard pull up. "See, here's what happened…" and he started to tell his tale.

"Rafe!" Kelly called out as he jogged back to his partner's side interrupting John's discourse. He whispered in Raeford's ear. The man gave him a look of disbelief and stopped walking.

"Really? Oh, _man_." Raeford let go of John's arm and stepped behind him to remove the cuffs.

"You're free to go, Colonel Sheppard. Sorry about the misunderstanding." Kelly told him with a more respectful tone.

John gave the man his most charming smile. "You were just doing your job, Kelly."

The cop looked relieved. "Thank you, sir."

The officer in charge, Loa, had been waylaid by the woman from the pool. With the patience of a saint, he listened to her complain, screeching and pointing first at John then at Adam as he was being led away.

Several officers came out of the garden area leading the two men who had disappeared on the walk to the pool while ambulances took away Number One and Number Three.

John watched the police cars pull away one by one with a smirk. Melissa and Jason were hugging the stuffings out of their father. Dave looked over his daughter's head, gave his brother a smile and nod which John returned with a sardonic salute. He felt someone walk up next to him and glanced over to see Sergeant Smith standing there, arms crossed, satisfaction in every line. "Good work, Sarge."

Smith stuck out his fist and John tapped it with his own. "Hoo-rah, sir."

"Hoo-rah my _ass!_"

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at a disheveled and livid Blaire. She was covered in dust mixed liberally with perspiration. Spider webs and leaves were stuck in her hair. Her top was slit up one side as were her pants and one shoe was missing making her bob up and down comically as she stalked into the pool area. John, Dave, Sergeant Smith, and the kids turned at her shout then took a step back when they saw the look in her eyes.

"Do you know what this…" she poked Smith in the chest, "…_person_ _did_ to me? He was just coming out of the security office when I found him. I told him what you told me to tell him, but when I tried to follow, he-_argh!_-locked me in a filthy, disgusting, spider-infested shed. Said it was for my own protection! I had to break a _window_ to get out but it wasn't a normal-sized window. It was almost too small for me to get out. My clothes are torn, I'm hot, sweaty, covered in I-don't-know-_what_ and if I don't get something alcoholic to drink soon, I'm taking _hostages!_"

The group just stared at her and laughed.

**Day Four**

**White Sands Hotel**

**O'ahu****'s ****North Shore**

**0842 Hours**

The Sheppard family stood on the front sidewalk of the White Sands Hotel in the bright morning sunshine. Next to them were three rolling carts containing no less than 27 pieces of luggage as well as several shopping bags. At the moment they weren't talking but listening to the hotel's manager, Damaris Kalawai'a. She'd been going on and on it seemed like forever as she enumerated the reasons for asking them to leave the hotel. The good news was she appeared to be winding down…finally. "…you've been a guest here every summer for some time now so I'm sure you understand my position, Mr. Sheppard. Our guests come from all over the world to stay at our hotel because we provide a calming, restful, relaxing ambience _and_ exceptional service. So far this morning, ten of our long-time guests have checked out vowing never to return. After what happened last night, I don't blame them.

"Given the severity of your violation, I think it was more than generous of us to not evict you in the middle of night but now it's time for you…" she pierced John with a glare made of daggers and he returned the look with a self-deprecating grin and shrug, "…and your family, to go. Our reservationist has instructions to no longer accept reservations made on your behalf." The woman handed Dave an envelope, nodded and went back inside.

The whole family turned to watch her go, the automatic door sliding shut in their faces. Everyone looked at Dave as he opened the envelope and pulled out a folded computer printout. He sighed, handed it to Blaire who moaned as she handed it to John. He read it while Jason and Melissa looked over his shoulder. "It's a bill for the damages to the lobby, pool-the dog relieved himself in it, a vending machine, the firefighting equipment, one of those rolling carts-I don't remember _that_, the window in the shed and replacement clothing for the lady with the dog as well as grooming for the dog."

"But it _wasn't_ our _fault_!" Melissa whined. "And who wears a 'dry clean only' bathing suit anyway?"

Jason snorted in irritation. "Yeah. That Adam guy is the one who pushed her and her yappy little Pomeranian into the pool."

"I know." Dave assured them. "But _they_ have diplomatic immunity."

Blaire took her sunglasses out of their case, holding him in one hand. "Which is politician-speak for…"

"…we get _screwed_." John finished for her. He gestured and his family followed him to the Caddy, bellmen behind them with the rolling carts. Next to the Caddy was the Jeep Grand Cherokee Dave had rented. They split the luggage between the two vehicles then stood between them while they decided who would ride with whom. In the end, the kids rode with John while Blaire rode with her husband.

Melissa took shotgun while Jason rode in back. John waited while Dave backed out then fired up the Caddy, pushed the CD into the player and checked the rear view mirror. As one, the three of them slid dark sunglasses on their faces and moments later they were turning left out of the driveway to follow Dave and Blaire and singing along with Johnny Cash, changing the words just a little, "We fell into a burning ring of fire. We went down, down, down and the flames went higher…"

**TBC**


	4. SOP

**A/N:** If you're expecting angst and fighting in this chapter, sorry to tell you there isn't any. Most of it is winding up loose ends and showing you some ends that weren't loose to start with. (_Huh?_)

Once again, thanks go out to Shadows-of-Realm for his suggestions.

_Mahalo_,

Sandy

**Making Amends**

**Chapter 4**

**SOP**

Dave pulled up in front of the sprawling single story home, the Caddy right behind it. They all got out and stood together as the front door was opened by a slender woman with silver hair. Her bright smile of welcome made them feel better about their situation. She rushed forward to hug Blaire and David.

"It's so good to see you again! Leave the luggage for later and come on in."

Once inside, Dave introduced everyone. "Martine, these are my children, Melissa and Jason. And the troublemaker with the black eye is my brother, John."

John ignored his brother and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Ma'am."

"Call me Marty. I haven't been called 'Ma'am' since I retired."

"Yes, Ma'am, uh, Marty."

Melissa jumped in, her voice filled with pride. "He's a _Colonel_ in the Air Force."

"Oh, really? My husband was in the Air Force. He'd love to have another flyboy to talk to."

"It would be my pleasure, Ma'am."

Dave rolled his eyes at his daughter then continued. "Everyone, this is Martine Amalu. Until the last election when she retired, she was the governor of Hawaii and has very generously offered to let us stay with her until we can sort out our housing situation."

Marty led them through the house and out onto the back patio. It had an in-ground pool and looked out over the Pacific Ocean. She poured everyone lemonade while Dave and Blaire explained the reason for their eviction from the White Sands Hotel. By the time they were done, their hostess was laughing so hard she was crying. "Oh, my! I know who you're talking about. Every year while I was in office, she tried to wangle an invitation to stay at the governor's mansion. It never worked because but I can't _stand_ that dog of hers and she takes it _everywhere_."

They all commiserated with Marty just as they heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle pulling up in front of the house. The noise cut off and a few minutes later the patio door opened.

John was standing, glass in hand, when an older man stopped next to him. He barely gave the man a glance. "Hey."

"Hello, Captain Sheppard."

The military man did a double take, coming immediately to attention. "General Kerrigan, sir!"

With a slight upward tilt of his mouth the white-haired man said, "At ease and have a seat. I'm not a General anymore."

"Yes, sir." John did as ordered but still kept the stiffness in his back and both feet on the floor.

The former General bent down to give his wife a kiss on the cheek and pulled out a chair. He was introduced around and when it came her turn, Melissa started to add more than "hi" but John shushed her with a near-imperceptible shake of his head. Crossing her arms, she sat back in her chair and pouted a little.

"Not a Captain anymore, are you, son?"

"No, sir. Colonel." John took a nervous sip of his cold drink.

Kerrigan nodded. "Why don't you and I go out to the garage and talk shop? John, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

John stood and followed his former commander into the house, through the kitchen and out into the garage. Kerrigan went to a bench, chose a tool then moved over to an old motorcycle.

He knew he should offer to help but all John could do was walk around and around the classic 1968 Triumph Bonneville T120R. It was painted scarlet and silver and was almost fully restored. Squatting across from Kerrigan, he examined the machine and found several loose connections. Not a big deal at the moment, but eventually they could cause a problem. Without thinking, John put his hand out and a wrench was placed in it. He tightened the bolts, made a few more adjustments, tested connections here and there then stood.

As he reached for a towel to wipe the grease from his hands he remembered where he was and with whom. "Sorry, sir. I see a classic motorcycle and etiquette goes out the window."

The older man laughed. "Not a problem, John." He picked up a towel and wiped his own hands. "So, you posted to the mountain?"

"No, sir. The island. We're hoping to return to our old location soon."

Tossing the towel and wrench on the bench, Kerrigan started the bike and gunned the engine. It was loud within the confines of the garage making both men wince. Raising his voice, he said, "Good luck with that. Getting things done at the IOA is like breeding elephants."

John didn't get the joke but didn't say so. "Uh, sir…"

A wave of the hand was all John needed. He climbed on, revved the engine, shifted into first and was gone. Kerrigan watched him go and said to the empty room, "We boys _do_ love our toys."

"What toys?"

The retired Air Force officer turned to find Melissa standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He waved in the direction John had just gone. "Your uncle is test driving the bike I just finished restoring."

"Bike? You mean _motorcycle_? That was _yours_ we heard?" Her excitement level rose, her words coming faster and faster. "I _love_ motorcycles. It would be so cool if I could have a ride." She realized what she said and backpedalled. "Oh, sorry, sir. I mean, riding them is fun. Not that I've ridden that many but, well, the times I did, it was fun, and it's been a while. I was a kid and my friend's dad took me. It was just around the block and he didn't go fast but…"

"Yes."

"Yes what, sir?"

"If your parents say it's okay, John can take you for a ride."

Melissa was bowled over by the generosity of a man she hardly knew. "Whoa! Thanks, General, sir."

Kerrigan was showing the young girl how to rebuild a carburetor when they heard the bike returning. Melissa dropped the ratchet she was holding and ran into the house, slamming the kitchen door behind her. When she returned, she was breathing fast.

John took hold of her shoulders and gave her a shake. "Hey! Calm down!"

"O-O-Okay." She inhaled deeply then exhaled. "General Kerrigan said you could take me for a ride and mom and dad said it was okay if you don't go too fast."

His eyebrows coming together over his nose, John turned his puzzled gaze on Kerrigan. "Sir?"

"It's true."

"Oh. Uh, okay." He straddled the bike again and waited while she got on. Before they took off, Kerrigan handed them both helmets. Without a fuss, they put them on and John started it again. Over his shoulder he said, "There's no sissy bar so you'll have to hold on, but not too tight. I need to be able to breathe. Ever done this before?"

"Yeah, but I was just a kid and I rode in front."

"Three things." He put up one finger. "When I lean, you lean." Another finger came up. "Keep your feet _on_ the footrests." A third one joined the others. "Careful of the exhaust pipe. It's there by your leg and it can get _hot_." He pointed.

"Got it. Can we go before mom and dad change their minds?"

Kerrigan laughed as they took off down the driveway and turned onto the street, Melissa pressed tight to her uncle's back.

* * *

It was dark and Dave had been on the phone for a while, pacing back and forth on the far side of the pool. Finally, he pulled the Bluetooth from his ear and shoved it in his pocket as he joined his family, Marty and General "call me Mike" Kerrigan.

"So?" His wife asked. "What happened?"

"Well, I found out who owns White Sands." Dave gave them all a sheepish glance. "_We_ do."

"_We?_ How come 'we'…" John swung his hand back and forth between Dave, Blaire, the kids, and himself. "…didn't know?"

Dave stuck his hands in his pockets. "Actually, it's owned by a subsidiary of SI called Highgate Acquisitions."

Jason bounced the basketball in his hands. He'd been playing one-on-one with John. "So that means…"

"…_we_ are Ms. Kalawai'a's boss." Dave turned to their host and hostess. "If it's okay with you, we'll stay the night and move back to the hotel tomorrow."

"If that's what you want. You know you're always welcome here."

John came to stand next to his brother. "Thanks, Marty. And thanks for the bike ride, General."

"Think nothing of it, John." Mike rubbed his hands together. "So, everyone ready for dinner? Marty makes a great Hungarian Goulash."

Everyone headed inside except for Dave. He stopped John with a hand on his arm. "I need to make one more call."

"Who you calling?"

Dave was already scrolling his contact list. "The _former_ COO of Sheppard Industries." He dialed as John mouthed _good luck_ and followed the others inside. "Frank? Dave…Yes, we're having a great time…We'll be home in a few days and I'll be back in the office the following Monday…I want you in my office at 0800 sharp…that's 8:00am and bring _everything_ on the Cha Malek natural gas plant. I especially want all the reports on the recent incident…Yes, Frank, you _are_ being fired but be there or I'll send my big brother after you…I'm sure I've mentioned that he's a _Colonel_ in the Air Force and has top-level government clearance, which means he has lots of friends in very high places…Oh, and Frank…Sweet dreams." He pressed the end key and slipped the phone back in his pocket with a grin.

**The Miller Home**

**Vancouver, BC**

**1508 PDT**

Jeannie heard the sound of a transport in the front room and went to investigate. She expected to see John, Meredith or Jennifer but instead found a shopping bag with two white boxes inside in the middle of the floor. One had Madison's name on it and the other had hers. She opened the small envelope that was stuck to the front of the larger box. The handwritten note inside simply said, "Aloha! John."

"Maddie!"

Footsteps thundered on the stairs and the young girl appeared moments later. "What, mom?"

"This is for you. It's from Colonel Sheppard."

Madison untied the purple ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was a white T-shirt with a giant turquoise wave across the front and a figure with a surfboard on the shore. Splashed across the top and bottom were the words "Bonzai Pipeline. If you can't surf with the big kids, stay on the beach!" She held it up for her mother to see. "This is _so_ cool!"

"Yes, it is."

"What did _you_ get?" The girl pointed at the box in her mother's hands.

"Don't know." Jeannie slid the burgundy and silver ribbon off and laid it aside as she removed the lid. She peeled back the tissue paper and saw what looked like a camisole. Lifting it by the straps, she stood when the material kept going until she was holding one of the most beautiful floor-length dresses she'd ever seen.

"Wow!"

Jeannie agreed but didn't respond, just went upstairs without a word. When she came back down she had the dress on with her hair pinned up on top of her head. Madison was standing in the front room with her mouth open, watching her mother. Jeannie did a slow pirouette. "Well?"

"It's bee-yoo-tee-ful, mom." The girl grinned broadly. "Colonel Sheppard must _really_ like you."

**The **_**General Hammond**_

**High Earth Orbit**

**1512 Ship Time**

Sam was in the Mess Hall eating sugar-free Jell-O and reading reports. "Colonel Carter? This package just arrived for you." The jumpsuited Lieutenant set a medium-sized bag on the table next to her.

"Thanks, Lieutenant." Her face scrunched in confusion, she laid aside her computer and pulled out a white box tied with a white ribbon. She untied it, pulled the lid off and picked up the note lying on top.

"_Sam,_

_You've had Godiva…now here's the 'or better.'_

Mahalo_,_

_John_"

Inside the box was another box, dark chocolate brown in color with "Island Truffles" in gold leaf on the bottom right corner. Glancing around to make certain she was alone she lifted the lid and chose one of the chocolates at random. Bringing it to her lips she bit it in half and just let the sweet treat melt on her tongue for a few heartbeats. Her eyes drifted shut and she moaned in ecstasy. _This is almost better than __sex__ it's so good! That man is getting a hug the next time I see him!_

**Two Years and Four Months Later**

**The Sheppard Family Home**

**Huntington Beach, CA**

**1037 Hours**

The doorbell rang and the housekeeper, Stefan, hurried to answer it. A courier stood there looking at his watch. His name patch said "Sid." The fifty-ish German man looked him up and down, giving him a frown of annoyance. "Yes?"

"Package for…" Sid checked the electronic data device, "…Melissa Sheppard. You got one o' them hangin' around here?" He tiptoed trying to see into the house.

"Of _course_ we do." Stefan reached for the EDD but the young man, who couldn't have been more than twenty-one, snatched it back.

"Sorry, dude. Gotta have her personal Joan Hancock or I'll lose m' job."

Stefan rolled his eyes. "As you wish." Over his shoulder, he called out, "Miss Sheppard, another package for you."

Running footsteps muffled by the carpet came toward the front entryway and a teenage girl skidded to a stop grabbing hold of Stefan's arm to steady herself. "Frosty!" At 17, Melissa was now 5'8". Gone was the little girl chubbiness leaving behind a body lean and toned from years of running, biking and playing soccer on her high school team. Her hair was waist length and wavy making her look like a taller, darker version of Hayden Panettiere in her _Heroes_ days. Hazel eyes lit on Sid with a grin as she yanked the EDD from his hands and signed. The machine beeped and she handed it back. "Thanks. Give the man a tip, Steve." She flashed Sid a bright smile.

Thoroughly charmed, the dumbstruck courier just held out a small package. Melissa took it and returned down the main hallway automatically making a right into the gym at the back of the house.

"What's that, honey?" her mom asked while walking on the treadmill.

"Don't know." The girl tore open the package and pulled out the items inside. "It's from Uncle John but it's just a piece of paper with an address and this key with the number B-17 on it." She held both up.

Blaire blotted the perspiration from her face and neck with a towel. "Huh. Well, let me get a shower and change and we'll drive over to see what it is."

"Frosty!"

* * *

The car's built-in GPS guided them to the correct address. It was one of those U-Store places that had climate controlled storage compartments. The security scanner at the gate let them in after verifying Melissa's ID and they drove around until they came to unit B-17. Blaire parked and the Sheppard women got out, still no wiser.

Knowing his propensity for joking around, Melissa opened the old fashioned padlock and rolled the door into the ceiling with tongue set firmly in cheek. When the contents were revealed, the eyes of both women went wide with shock. They walked around _it_ several times, finally stopping on opposite sides. On the back wall was a huge banner that said, "Happy 17th, Mel!"

Melissa's heart was about to leap out of her chest but somehow she found the ability to speak. "Did I mention that Uncle John is my _favorite_ uncle?"

"A time or two." Blaire said with a smirk.

"It's…it's…"

"Frosty?"

Melissa nodded. "Practically a blizzard." Her tone reverential as she stared at the "…2015 Yamaha Galactic Warrior. The engine has 120-cubic-inch displacement, air-cooled, long-stroke, OHV, hybrid, 48-degree cylinders with pushrod valve actuation to keep the engine height down, a four-valve cylinder head design, a state-of-the-art ECU…"

"I'm sure it's all _very_ interesting. Let's just take it home so you can lord it over your brother while he's visiting from college."

"But mom…" Melissa's cell beeped indicating she had a message. She read it and shrugged, turning it so her mother could see.

"_Look in the saddlebag_."

Blaire opened the right side while her daughter opened the left. Inside was a white envelope that contained a note:

"_Mel,_

_Sorry I couldn't be there for your birthday but I know you understand. _

_By now you've seen your gift and if I know Blaire, she's there with you. Just to set her mind at ease, this incredible piece of machinery comes with a few conditions. Consider them SOP. _

_1. Before you get the keys, you must complete and __pass__ a state-approved Motorcycle Safety Course. I have friends in high places so I'll know if you don't._

_2. Always__ wear your helmet. _

_3. Obey the rules of the road, no matter how ridiculous they seem. We want you around for a very long time._

_4. Have fun!_

_SOP,_

_Uncle John_"

Melissa sniffed as she slipped the note back in its envelope. She looked up when her mom touched her arm.

"Come on. Let's get this thing home. Lunch'll be ready soon and you _know_ how upset Stefan gets if we're late."

Together the women were able to roll the motorcycle and its trailer into position to hook it up to the back of the car. A few minutes later they pulled out of the gate and headed for home.

**Eight Years and Six Months Later**

**Atlantis, Pegasus**

**1422 Hours **

"_Excuse me, sir. You have a visitor._" Sergeant Barnes' voice came over the PA into the gym where Atlantis Expedition Commander General John Sheppard was sparring with Ronon.

"Who is it?" John addressed the air while trying not very successfully to defend himself against his friend's "attacks."

"_New explosives expert. Insists on reporting to you personally._"

"I'm in the main workout room." He ducked feeling the brush of a near miss on the side of his head. A few minutes later the door whooshed open and a young Lieutenant entered, coming immediately to attention.

"Reporting for duty, sir."

John called a time out, wiped his face and neck with a towel. While drinking from his water bottle, he came to stand in front of Atlantis' newest citizen. His right hand came up in a casual salute. "At ease, Lieutenant."

She relaxed into parade rest and watched him for a moment waiting for him to say something more but he just stared back. Finally, she said, "Permission to hug the General, sir?"

"Granted…Lieuten-oof!" John grunted when his niece launched herself at him, hugging him tight. "Careful. I bruise easily."

"Sorry. Got carried away."

"SOP." He massaged his lower back as he made his way over to the bench. Melissa sat next to him giving Ronon a sidelong glance. "Ronon, you remember my niece, Melissa."

Ronon nodded and shook her hand. "Welcome to Atlantis."

"Thanks. I'm excited to finally be here, sir."

Ronon shook his head. "Ronon." Melissa nodded.

John took another drink from his bottle. "Just don't think you can slack off because your favorite uncle is also your boss."

Melissa's eyes sparkled with amusement as she gave Ronon a wink. "Uncle Meredith's in charge? Whose idea was _that?_"

"Ha-ha. If you weren't so good at your job, I'd have you transferred to an uninhabited planet with nothing but your wits and your pre-adolescent cousins for company."

"I had a great teacher. Colonel Cadman is a _genius_ when it comes to explosives." She gave him a smirk combined with pride for the first part, ignoring the second part. "So what team will I be on? I'd love to be on your old team."

"You and every other eager young recruit but I have to avoid the appearance of nepotism. You're on AR-4."

"_Fine_." Rolling her eyes, she stood and pulled him to his feet. "Come on. Show me the Mess Hall. You can buy us some ice cream."

John dragged his feet as she hauled him toward the nearest transporter. "How about a little decorum? I'm supposed to be in charge of this whole shebang. How'm I supposed to keep the respect of those under my command when they see a _Lieutenant_ dragging me by the hand and begging for ice cream?"

"They already respect you, Uncle John. Nothing's gonna change that."

When they reached the Mess Hall, he drew them to a stop and pulled his hand from hers, giving her his "I'm not kidding" face. "I mean it, Mel. We can fool around when we're alone or with family but on the job and in public there can't be any hint of preferential treatment. There's always going to be a few that think you got this post because you're my niece."

"Which _isn't_ true. You were given the records of ten candidates who fit your very specific criteria _without_ their personal information and just happened to pick _me_ as the best of the best for the position."

"_I_ know that, _you_ know that and the _OAB_ knows that, but it's not going to stop the rumors from making the rounds. Going forward, on duty and _especially_ at crunch time, it's 'General', 'General Sheppard' or 'Sir'. Off duty and out of uniform is when 'Uncle John' comes out to play. Just be careful _when_ you use it."

Melissa snapped to attention, all silliness and familiarity gone from her voice and expression. "Yes, sir!"

John rolled his eyes. "At _ease_, Lieutenant." He watched her for a moment. "We've never served at the same post before."

She relaxed, hands clasped behind her. "I know, sir. I imagine it will take a bit of getting used to."

"No kidding." He stepped forward to activate the door mechanism waiting for her to join him but she remained in place. Lowering his voice, he asked, "You want ice cream or not? The flavor of the week is Chocolate Volcano."

"Affirmative, General Sheppard, _sir_." Melissa turned her head just enough to see his expression. "One question, if I may, sir." When she was sure she had his attention, she grinned. "Can I get whipped cream and sprinkles?"

John mirrored her grin. "Of course. That's SOP." They entered the Mess Hall together. "This one's on me, but next time, _you_ buy."

"SOP…sir."

**The End**

**A/N:** Many thanks to everyone who helped with this story and to those who R&R. Glad you enjoyed it along with _Relatively Speaking_ and _It's All Relative_.

Aloha,

Sandy


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